More Thorn Than Dahlia
by LuckyBlackCat
Summary: A character study of Dahlia from her point of view. She's in hell and reflecting on her life and death. T&T spoilers.


**A/N This is my first fiction for the Phoenix Wright section. Hello! *nervous wave* I got really fascinated by Dahlia Hawthorne...so this is kind of a character study type thing from Dahlia's point of view. Enjoy if you can, reviews appreciated!**

I bet you've heard all the stories, haven't you? Poor little "Feenie", tricked by that hussy of a woman. Dahlia Hawthorne. And I'm more thorn than dahlia, that I promise you. And "Feenie" was a snivelling idiot. And once a snivelling idiot, always a snivelling idiot.

Now before you leave thinking I'm a complete cow (which, let's face it, I am, but that's not the point) let's review the facts. You'll find this very, very interesting I'm sure.

I, Dahlia Hawthorne, am dead.

AM DEAD.

And, oh yes, I think I'm in hell.

Let me tell you about hell. It's not all burning pits of fire, you know. There's no fire, no flames and no devils (unless you count me). I can't see any other souls here either, but I suppose that might be a good thing. Explaining things to Valerie and Doug may be a bit difficult, as I murdered them and all. Even though, if you _really_ think about it, I was doing them a favour. Their lives must have been so incredibly _dull_. So they're better off dead anyway.

So, hell doesn't sound that bad so far, right? No monsters, anyway. Just black. And not black like darkness, black like paint on a wall. Boring black. So in hell, you sit and stare at this black until the higher spirit or whatever (I don't know how it works, O.K?) decides it's time for my punishment. Gosh, what's that Dahlia? I hear you ask. I call it a "re-living".

I get to re-live the worst bits of my life again and again and again. The images explode in vivid colour: Terry, Valerie, Mia, Diego, Phoenix, Doug, Maya, Morgan, Iris, Daddy...on and on and on.

The words, the final words, ring inside my head. No-one has talked to me ever since _that_ day.

"_Your plan was just a big failure!"_

"_Yes, another failure to add to the pile of shame!"_

"_Not a single one of your past crimes was a success!"_

"_You let Maya Fey escape! Even though she was right there in front of you!"_

"_Whether you're alive, dead, or somewhere in between, you'll never defeat me!"_

"_The soul, the spirit lives on. For all of eternity you'll have to live as Dahlia Hawthorne. A miserable, pathetic, weak creature who can never win at anything...you will never escape from that!" _

Well, answer me this, Mia Fey! If I'm so _weak_ and _pathetic_, how come I managed to poison your boyfriend? Coffee- practically _made _to conceal poison. I took you away from each other, and I would call that a _success_! And now you're dead and he's _ruined_! Ruined! Take that! As you moronic lawyers would say.

What's the use? Mia's not here. She's not in hell. Which isn't fair! After all she's done to _me_, it's the least she deserves! She made life so difficult. Her getting Phoenix Wright a "not guilty" verdict was what got me my death sentence. She _murdered_ me! And yet her soul is free and no doubt channelled frequently and often to get that idiot Phoenix Wright out of trouble. Just like in court that day. I'm guessing my "sister" Pearl was channelling her because her hair was way dorky and her clothes too small but still, _it was her_!

When my death sentence was carried out, mother wasn't saddened to see me go. Not like normal mothers. No, she was _happy_ to see me dead. Because with me dead she could carry out her little plan to place her darling Pearl as the Master of the Kurain Channelling Technique. All that stood in her way was Maya. Oh, and as luck would have, she was Mia Fey's little sister. So killing her would be no trouble at all, would it Dahlia? After all you'd get your revenge on that nasty hag who got you killed. What do you think?

Here is what I think, mother. I think you are ruined. I think that you are filled with nothing but bitterness because of your younger sister becoming the Master. I think that you never loved me because my spiritual powers were next to nothing. I think that if even my own mother and father won't look after me and give me what I want, I'll get it myself. No matter what the cost. I think that Pearl Fey is cursed by having a mother like you. But killing Maya Fey...gosh, I can't resist!

It all started when I was fourteen and coveted the 2 million dollar jewel my father possessed. I had two fools assist me. One was a fat, thick oaf. The other was my step sister, Valerie. Charming them into it was easy. Everyone wants money.

Charming people is the easiest thing in the world. Just put on the pinkest, frilliest dress you can find and bat your eye lashes. Holding a parasol helps, as it makes people think you are a delicate little creature. It's also useful for giving people a whack when it all gets too much. Sadly this is a no-go in court as the attorneys sit too far away. Plus, thinking about it, why would you ruin a perfectly good parasol?

A stepsister policewoman was quite useful to have around as Melissa Foster. All the paperwork sorted. And she fell for the sweet little girl act instantly. But if my true identity was to be exposed, I wouldn't need her anymore. Bye-bye, Valerie! You get stabbed in the back I'm afraid!

I liked Melissa Foster. The Melissa Foster times were good. But thanks to that Mia Fey...I was forced into becoming Dahlia Hawthorne once again.

And so I took my revenge. And...oh, you know the rest.

But there's still this one thing that gets to me...nearly as much as Mia goddamn Fey.

Iris. Oh, Iris. Why couldn't I have had a smarter sister who didn't insist on dating "Feenie"? Why couldn't I have had a fun sister, a cool sister? Not some goddamn nun who betrayed me! Who didn't turn up to play her part in the kidnapping! Whi insisted on keeping that spiky haired fool alive! You were too nice, Iris. What's the point in being _nice_? You never cared about me either, did you Iris? I should have killed your boyfriend while I had the chance. God knows what stopped me! The only thing stopping me now is _death_.

So, here I am, Dahlia Hawthorne, talking to myself in hell. I never had a real boyfriend or anyone who loved me, the _real_ me. I don't care anyway. People are there to be used. The only person I'll ever love is me, and nothing will change that. Nothing.

**A/N I don't like the end, but I had to stop it there before I visited Ramble City. I may already be one foot in it but...shutting up, I'm shutting up. Review now. Please. You may have Dahlia's parasol to whack people with if you do. **


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